


Wait for Me

by Yevynaea



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Depression, Family, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Hope, Immortal Merlin, Immortality, Light Angst, Love, Memories, Modern Era, Multi, One Shot, Recovered Memories, Reincarnation, Waiting, merlin waits for arthur and it frickin pays off hallelujah, surprisingly little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 05:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9477197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevynaea/pseuds/Yevynaea
Summary: He changes his name every so often, alternates being young and old and male and female, just in case. He becomes a doctor, a teacher, a writer, even a stage magician once, for a little while. But he never goes too far from where Camelot used to be, and he always knows when he sees familiar souls. So he notices, of course, when he starts to see them more, starts to see so many people he used to know in the span of a few months and a few miles. They’re different, of course, new names and new faces, but he’s always been able to recognize them.(Or: yet another reincarnation fic, but, you know, hopefully not everyone's tired of those yet.)





	

Merlin keeps track, sometimes on paper, most often only in his head, of when he sees familiar souls. Friends, allies, enemies. He keeps a tally, remembers who he sees again, and where-- although, he’s never traveled very far from home anyway.

He changes his name every so often, alternates being young and old and male and female, just in case. He becomes a doctor, a teacher, a writer, even a stage magician once, for a little while. But he never goes too far from where Camelot used to be, and he always knows when he sees familiar souls. So he notices, of course, when he starts to see them  _ more _ , starts to see so many people he used to know in the span of a few months and a few miles. They’re different, of course, new names and new faces, but he’s always been able to recognize them. (He doesn’t know  _ exactly  _ why, but he can guess.)

♕♔♛♔♕

He finds Gwen and Morgana quite by accident, best friends who sit next to each other near the back of his year twelve history class, and speak in sign language to each other when they think he isn’t looking. A few lifetimes ago, Merlin may have been wary of the young woman with the eyes of a priestess, but now, he knows that souls don’t carry much over incarnations. Now, he sees a girl protective of her friend, sees Morgana be Gwen’s ears and voice, sees Gwen keep Morgana’s rage in check. He thinks fate was wise to put them together. It’s amusing to see what kinds of students they are, too. Gwen turns her work in on time, mostly, but every so often she’ll decide an assignment isn’t worth finishing, so she simply won’t. Morgana acts like she doesn’t care about her grade, and turns in nearly every assignment days late, but Merlin’s found that’s only because she’s waiting until she’s perfected it.

“Mr. Hunithson, this essay assignment is homophobic,” Morgana says loudly, one day, after Merlin’s announced to the class that said essay is due in a little over week. Merlin blinks once, twice, then turns away from the board.

“...Would you care to explain how?” He asks, when no such explanation is forthcoming.

“I’m gay and it’s inconveniencing me,” the teen replies. Merlin laughs, then tries to hide it with a cough or three when he remembers he’s supposed to be a professional.

♕♔♛♔♕

Elyan and Lancelot are friends, and actors. They’ve got dreams to be on Broadway someday, and Merlin’s seen a few shows, he doesn’t doubt they could make it. It’s funny to compare the men onstage at the local theater to the knights he knew, but, when he thinks about it, there’s really not as big a gap as one would think. Merlin doesn’t make a huge excess of money, but he has enough to go to his friends’ plays every once and awhile. He sits in the front row for each production, and enjoys every one. Eventually they start to recognize him, greet him with a smile when they come out after a show, ask him what he thought.

“Terrible.” He shakes his head solemnly, every time, laughing when Lancelot pretends to faint into Elyan’s arms from offense.

♕♔♛♔♕

Gaius is a doctor again (he usually is), unruffled and efficient, as far as Merlin’s seen. Then again, he hasn’t seen that much, he’s only been to her office twice. The first time, with a badly sprained ankle he could have fixed himself, if he hadn’t been with a fellow teacher who insisted on driving him to the hospital. The second time, with a hurt shoulder he may have exaggerated about, just a little bit, so he could make sure he was right about who he thought the doctor was. (He was right, and she wasn’t impressed.)

♕♔♛♔♕

He runs into Gwaine and Percival at the grocery store. Or, more accurately, he notices them holding hands and arguing over which kind of eggs to buy, and trips over his own feet because he’s staring, and they help him pick everything up that’s just tumbled out of his basket. Gwaine tells a joke (then laughs at it himself, of course) and they both smile at Merlin like a friend. The warlock’s heart pangs, and he half-pretends to be embarrassed so they’ll let him move on faster. (He wonders if they ever go to the local theater.)

♕♔♛♔♕

“Feel free to look around.” The unexpected one is Kilgharrah. He’s an old man with older eyes, and he smiles briefly at Merlin from behind the counter of his dusty little bookshop. Merlin replies with a quick thanks, not looking the other man in the eyes, (not wanting to see the lack of everything familiar his friend used to be; he’s had a bad few days and he can’t handle seeing that right now) and he’s halfway across the store before he realizes he’d spoken in the old language. He turns back to apologize, to translate, but the shopkeeper’s already disappeared into a door marked ‘Employees Only’. Merlin finds the books he came for, and goes back to the counter to wait. There’s no bell to ring.

“Hello? I’m ready to check out.” He calls, in English this time, ( _ modern  _ English, even, which he considers impressive given his current state) and Kilgharrah emerges from the back, his expression somewhat distracted, almost thoughtful as he rings up the books. He sticks the receipt in between the pages of one, then slides the whole stack back over to Merlin, without putting them into a bag. “Uh,” Merlin looks up finally, and he doesn’t know this face but he knows that smile. The warlock grits his teeth, irritated, and picks up his books, trying to balance them all in his arms, wondering what else he expected.

“Come again soon, young man.” Kilgharrah says, with a gleam in his eye, and something in his voice that suggests that sentence might have ended differently. Merlin pauses. He’s long since stopped asking anyone if they remember him, but he can’t help but wonder now if maybe he should, just this once. But at the questioning look in the shopkeeper’s eye, Merlin shakes the thought away, smiles politely, and turns to leave.

♕♔♛♔♕

Mordred joins his class halfway through the year, a transfer student who’s just moved into town. Merlin nearly has a heart attack, because whoever brought in an extra desk for the new student put it right next to Morgana’s. Merlin briefly entertains the thought of pretending to be sick, and letting a substitute take over for a few days. Or weeks.

Instead, he takes a deep breath, then takes attendance, and when he reaches the new name, he pauses. There’s a note stuck to the paper, saying that the feminine name the teen is enrolled under isn’t the one he prefers to go by. Merlin reads out the second name, the one on the note, and sees the boy’s tense shoulders relax slightly.  _ Souls don’t carry things,  _ Merlin reminds himself, and finishes taking attendance.

♕♔♛♔♕

He visits the bookstore again, and there’s a little girl sitting in one corner, her back against the shelves, holding a well-worn book. Her legs are both prosthetics, which Merlin can only tell because they’re currently laying on the carpet next to her while she reads. She glances up when he comes in, but her eyes dart shyly away again when they catch his.

“Your daughter?” Merlin asks Kilgharrah, who looks briefly at a loss for how to answer.

“My niece,” He says, nodding, “But I’ve raised her since she was young.”

Merlin buys his books, and bids a friendly goodbye to Aithusa and her uncle.

♕♔♛♔♕

He sees his parents in a shopping mall, of all places. They are together, and they seem happy, joking and talking, with one of Balinor’s arms wrapped around Hunith’s shoulder and the other holding the hand of a child. Hunith holds another, slightly younger child against her side, and the toddler chatters cheerfully at its mothers. The children are familiar too, vaguely, but not enough to place.

Merlin manages to return the polite smiles the couple sends his way, as the family passes him. He manages to stay standing until they’ve entered a store and are all out of sight. And then he breaks.

He sinks to his knees, still in the middle of the walkway. He puts one hand,  then both, over his mouth, to keep himself from making any noise, but he can’t stop the wracking sobs stealing his breath, or the tears blurring his vision. His forehead meets the stone-tiled floor, and he can hear whispers from people around him but he doesn’t care. This is the first time he’s seen his mother and father in centuries, and he’s known for a good portion of that time that the people he sees aren’t the ones he knew, but the pain of it now is not unlike that of a sword. (Or worse.) 

Merlin cries for a while, he doesn’t really know how long, before there are footsteps coming toward him, a gentle hand on his back and another old soul connected to it.

“Sir? Is there anything I can do for you?” Leon asks, not pointing out that Merlin is curled on the mall floor, blocking shoppers and crying like the world just ended, not asking  _ are you alright  _ because the answer to that is obvious. Offering his help because he’s still  _ Leon,  _ under whatever face he has this time around, and souls don’t carry things over incarnations but they never really  _ change _ . Merlin sits up, slowly, takes his hands from over his mouth to take a breath, to apologize, to spin a lie (one of thousands, one of trillions, he lost count back in Camelot and hasn’t bothered trying to count again since). Instead, he ends up leaning forward and crying harder, against Leon’s shoulder. He’s probably getting a lot of tears on the man’s mall security uniform. He tries to apologize again, and he’s a little bit more successful this time. Leon keeps a hand pressed between Merlin’s shoulder blades, and it’s not quite a hug, but it’s more than enough.

♕♔♛♔♕

He’s at the park a few weeks later, muttering to himself in the old language as he grades papers, sitting on a bench and hoping the pale grey sky won’t decide to rain on him. He doesn’t think Morgana’s turned this assignment in yet, but maybe if everyone else gets theirs back first it’ll motivate her. Maybe. Probably not. He can hope.

Merlin writes an A on Mordred’s paper, smiling a little at the teen’s detailed research. This exact second, of course, is when a football comes out of nowhere and hits him in the head.

“I am  _ so  _ sorry,” a voice calls from behind him, accompanied by various shouts and jeers, presumably from the voice’s friends. Merlin would be significantly more inclined to believe the apology if the person offering it wasn’t  _ laughing,  _ but he figures an insincere apology is better than none at all.

“It’s fine,” he says, calling on centuries of learned patience as he leans over to retrieve the football from the ground. He straightens in his seat again just as the person who hit him rounds the bench.

“You alright?” Arthur asks, trying to get his laughter under control.

“I’m alive,” Merlin deadpans. He tosses the football back. His hands are shaking, and he quickly forced them still.

Arthur is young,  _ so young _ , only nineteen or so. He looks different, of course he does, but Merlin knows him, just as he always knows the others.

“Sorry again,” Arthur says, sounding a little more sincere this time. Just a little.  _ Prat. _

Merlin just nods. He doesn’t know what else to do, what else to say; he always assumed Arthur would remember him, that there would be some moment of recognition, that something would happen-- but Arthur spins the football in his hands, turns, and runs off the way he came, back to the game he’d been playing.

Merlin doesn’t let himself feel anything except his developing headache. He gathers his students’ papers, stands, and goes home. He doesn’t look back even once.

♕♔♛♔♕

He’s come to the same park to grade papers for months, when the weather allows, and he won’t allow his whole schedule to change just because of this new development. He forces himself to go back to the park, and he tells himself, repeatedly, that it’s  _ not  _ because he hopes Arthur will remember him. (And he almost believes it.)

Life continues on, as it always has. Merlin falls back into routine, and almost manages to convince himself that he’s okay with that.

And then, one cloudy day, Arthur sits down on his bench.

“I know you,” Arthur says, staring at Merlin with a very familiar face of suspicion and distrust.

“Yes,” Merlin agrees. “You hit me with a football.”

“No, from somewhere else.” Arthur keeps staring, and Merlin resolutely keeps grading papers, ignoring his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “I’ve been having-- I know this sounds maybe a bit crazy, but I’ve been having these dreams, full of knights and monsters and things. And  _ your face  _ is in almost all of them.”

_ Forward, this one,  _ Merlin thinks -- the thought of an old man -- but his heart is pounding even harder now, wondering about these ‘dreams’, wondering if maybe, maybe,  _ maybe… _

“What’s your name?” Arthur asks, or really,  _ demands _ , when Merlin remains silent.

“Merlin,” the truth slips out before his brain can stop it.  _ Damn _ .

Arthur seems a little dubious.

“I’m Aaron,” he says finally, holding out a hand. Merlin doesn’t allow himself to look up, just keeps grading. Arthur--  _ Aaron--  _ makes an offended sound. “You’re very rude, anyone ever tell you that?”

“On occasion, yes,” Merlin says. Then, before he can help it, “and you’re a bit of a prat.”

“Oi!” Aaron protests, but there’s amusement there. With mostly-faked haughtiness, he continues, “how dare you. I’m the son of a city councilman; practically royalty.”

“Sorry.” Merlin grins. “You’re a bit of a prat,  _ my lord. _ ”

He finally looks up when he hears a laugh, and their eyes meet just in time for Aaron’s to go wide with surprise. They both stare for a moment, frozen, before Aaron’s mouth opens, then closes again, two or three times.

“Merlin,” he says, and Merlin’s heart nearly stops because  _ there _ , there is the recognition, there is the memory, there is  _ Arthur. _

“My lord,” Merlin repeats, because he really can’t think of anything else to say. All those centuries, and all those times he’d practiced speeches and rants and explanations and apologies, and not a single word will come to him now.

Arthur laughs, and Merlin can only join him, pulling the younger man into a tight hug. (It’s awkward, hugging someone while sitting next to them, but he manages.)

Then--

“You have magic,” Arthur says into his shoulder. Merlin lets go, leans back, looking for the anger, the betrayal in the king’s eyes. It’s there for a split second, but it’s quickly blinked away, covered up. Arthur puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, sitting up straight and looking very royal as he says, “you’re still an idiot.”

Merlin laughs again, breathless.

“I’m serious!” Arthur continues, trying to keep a straight face. “You have magic, and you just let me hit you in the head with a football!”

♕♔♛♔♕

In class the next day, Gwen smiles brightly at him as he’s handing back papers, and she’s practically bouncing in her seat, probably full of questions and hugs. He smiles back as he passes her desk, signs  _ later,  _ and Gwen nods.

“Emrys,” Morgana greets under her breath. Merlin smiles at her, same as always, and puts her paper down on her desk without a word.

When he gives back Mordred’s paper, the boy won’t look at him, which, for now, is perfectly fine. Merlin doesn’t know what he’d say if Mordred tried to start a conversation.

♕♔♛♔♕

The bookstore is quiet when Merlin goes in, but Kilgharrah emerges from the back room when Merlin calls for him. The old man smiles, arms full of books that he drops carelessly on the checkout desk with a  _ thud _ .

“Hello again, young warlock.”

“Kilgharrah,” Merlin greets, grinning widely. He feels like he’s smiled more in the past few days than in the previous ten years combined. It’s a good feeling. “I’m not really that young anymore.”

The once-dragon walks out from behind the desk, looking Merlin up and down appraisingly, and where once merlin might have shrunken under Kilgharrah’s intense gaze, now he stands tall, meeting the man’s eyes. Kilgharrah smiles, slow and secretive, and Merlin laughs.

“No, you’re not,” the dragon decides finally, stepping forward to pull Merlin into a bear hug, which is unexpected, but not unpleasant. “It’s good to see you.”

♕♔♛♔♕

A few find  _ him.  _ Gaius shows up in his classroom in the middle of lunch hour, her curly hair loose around her face, one eyebrow quirked in a familiar expression.

“What have you done this time?” She asks, gesturing at nothing in particular.

“What?” Merlin asks, through a bite of his sandwich.

“I’ve got two lives in my head, Merlin; two very different lives, and a few things that don’t seem to belong to either. If I’m remembering correctly, things like this tend to involve  _ you _ .”

“That’d be--” Merlin pauses to swallow his sandwich bite-- “that’d be the other reincarnations before this one, I’m guessing. But it’s not like any of it’s  _ my  _ fault.”

The eyebrow moves up even further, skeptical.

♕♔♛♔♕

Hunith and Balinor come to his apartment-- “I’m a police officer now, you didn’t exactly make it hard to find you,  _ Martin Hunithson, _ ”-- with their children in tow.

“William, Naomi, this is Merlin. Your-- your cousin.” Balinor introduces them uncertainly, and Merlin laughs a little, tears in his eyes. Will and Nimueh, four and two and hiding behind Hunith’s skirt, look up at him with curiosity, but no recognition. Hunith reaches out to rest a hand on Merlin’s face, holding him. Balinor smiles, hesitant and unsure, and Merlin offers his father-- or is it mother, now-- his hand, which Balinor takes. They all stand there for a moment before Merlin moves, and his parents’ arms drop.

He looks again at the children standing behind Hunith.

“Hello,” Merlin greets, crouching down to be closer to his siblings’ eye levels. “Would you like to see a magic trick?”

♕♔♛♔♕

Merlin is at the park again, waiting for Arthur, and he also gets Uther. Arthur comes to a stop in front of Merlin’s bench, frowning a little. Uther follows after his son, suit without wrinkles, shoes newly shined, expression serious, and Merlin stands as he approaches.

_ Here we go,  _ Merlin sighs to himself, getting ready for whatever fight the councilman wants to pick--

“Thank you,” says Uther. Merlin isn’t sure he heard that right. “I won’t pretend to like you, but I understand that, through magic, you saved Arthur’s life. Probably many times over. I’m depending on you to protect my son.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Merlin replies. Uther looks the tiniest bit suspicious, like he can’t figure out whether Merlin is being sarcastic. Arthur gives a tiny cough, fist curled in front of his mouth like he’s hiding a smile.

♕♔♛♔♕

Merlin puts up posters for the knights, at Guinevere and Arthur’s suggestion: round table for sale, sturdy, reliable. He puts a price and his address on the posters, puts them up around nearby parks and grocery stores, and within a week about a half dozen knights have shown up on his doorstep, every drop of alcohol in the house is gone, and Gwaine’s fallen asleep on his couch twice. When the last happens, Percival takes the floor, unwilling to leave his boyfriend alone for the night. After the third time, Merlin’s living room becomes a campsite, Lancelot and Elyan and Leon all joining in. After the sixth time, Merlin throws his hands up in defeat and joins them, pulling the pillows off his bed. After the eighth time, Gwaine wonders aloud if maybe they should be inviting Arthur to their sleepovers.

♕♔♛♔♕

“Mr. Hunithson, this assignment was homophobic,” Morgana says loudly, the first words she’s said to him directly in the month since her memories returned. Merlin tries to fight a smile, and loses, badly.

“Would you care to explain how?” He asks. Most of his class groans, tired of the joke by now.

“I’m gay, and it inconvenienced me,” Morgana states matter-of-factly. Automatically, as always, her hands sign the words as she speaks, and Gwen laughs quietly, which makes Morgana preen a little under her friend’s attention. Mordred is hiding a smile by staring studiously at the paper on front of him.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find the next unit more interesting,” Merlin says. “Who here knows anything about the stories of King Arthur?”

Mordred  _ giggles _ , which quickly turns into uncontrollable laughter that the boy tries to stifle. Much to the confusion of the rest of the class, Gwen joins in, and Morgana drops her head onto her desk, groaning.

Merlin can’t help the laugh that finds itself in his throat. He knew that souls don’t carry much over incarnations, but, maybe, he thinks, maybe, on the flip side, memories aren’t enough to erase the chance for new beginnings.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he takes it out to glance at it-- a text from Arthur, a reply to Merlin’s invitation to the next living room campout.  _ See u there. I get the couch. _

“Alright, settle down,” he addresses the class, putting his phone away again with a grin. Morgana’s glaring at him, but, she’s also fighting a smile, and Mordred is trying not to burst into giggles again, and Gwen is sitting regally in her seat, hands folded on her desk in front of her while she bites her lip to keep from laughing.

Merlin begins the first lesson of the unit, writing names and dates and notes and “theories” on the whiteboard. As he’s writing, he thinks of the people behind each story, then and now, of how they’ve all found their way back to him, of how finding Arthur again was the end, and the beginning.

Hope blooms in his chest, and for the first time in centuries, Merlin lets it grow.


End file.
